


go and ride the sun away

by kittpurrson



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bipolar Disorder, Break Up, Heavy Angst, Insomnia, Isak Valtersen Has Issues, M/M, Miscommunication, Non-Linear Narrative, Panic Attacks, The Last Five Years
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-08 05:33:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11075067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittpurrson/pseuds/kittpurrson
Summary: Even and Isak break up. That's sort of the beginning of the story.or: The Last Five Years au, in which nobody sings and Isak is very much Still Hurting.





	1. still hurting

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse this short-chaptered, experimental thing, as I get back into the swing of writing.
> 
> Warning: in this fic, Isak's own mental health issues (specifically anxiety, in this case) will be addressed. TW for panic attacks, insomnia, and possible self-medication.
> 
> [on hiatus]

**Act I**

**Scene I**

**November - Isak**

 

The night is colder than it has any right to be, even for November, but maybe that’s just the rage building up inside Isak’s chest as he stumbles onto Magnus’s patio, heart pounding insistently against his ribcage. He doubles over from the feel of it--the way his chest tightens, the telltale ache in his abdomen. His eyes feel blurry, so he closes them, but he puts out a hand to feel the painted wood of the house, focuses on the feeling of it under his fingertips.

Jonas stands beside him, just enough space for Isak not to feel (more) suffocated, and Isak tries to breathe through his nose, focus on the familiar smell of him. 

_ In for seven. Out for eleven. In for seven. Out for eleven. In for-- _

When he opens his eyes and looks up there are stars, stars everywhere, already dead or dying in front of him, and he’s too fucked up to think in metaphors tonight… or at all anymore. Even had said once, in one of his low days, that there would never be as much star as darkness. Isak can’t even look at them without remembering that.

Fuck Even, Isak tells himself. Fuck this.

When he can finally stand upright again, his breath is still shaky. 

The boys are all around him, he realises, a protective circle like he needs a fucking bodyguard to shield him from Even.

“Smart move, buddy,” Mahdi is saying, shaking his head at Magnus.

“Shit, should I not have asked him?” Magnus says, genuine remorse written all over his awkward gesturing. “He said they were still friends…”

“Are you kidding?” Jonas asks. It’s as pissed off as Isak’s seen him in a while. “Come on, man, not cool.”

“I just drank too much,” Isak says. "It's fine." And it should be, really, except--

Even is still in the living room with some girl whispering in his ear. At this very moment, he’s probably craning his neck down to listen to her, closer than he needs to be, and Isak feels it like a punch to his windpipe. 

Is that why he wanted the break? Isak wants to ask him, but he knows how ugly it will sound. How accusatory. The possessive clawing hand inside of him wants to know who Even has touched, everybody he has smiled at, kissed, fucked. Does Even want to get his dick sucked by other people now? Tangle his long fingers in somebody else’s hair?

It’s been four weeks. Isak can’t believe Even would be so cruel.

“It’s probably nothing,” Magnus says, because he’s still the last to believe the worst of Even of all of the boys. Despite everything that has happened with Even and Isak, Magnus and Even have a friendship.

Isak is petty enough to be bothered by it.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Jonas says darkly. He cranes his neck to see around Isak, and Isak doesn’t bother turning his head again when Jonas’s expression grows stormier. Whatever there is to see there, it’ll hurt too much to look at.

“I just want to go home,” he says, and Mahdi raises his eyebrows in surprise. Isak remembers, then, that that won’t do, either. Home is not somewhere he’s been, lately. But Jonas reaches out and squeezes his shoulder, and Isak sags into the touch, utterly exhausted by the weight of his own misery.

“Come on,” he says, brows furrowing in concern. “We can go out the back way, skip the fence.”

_ So Even doesn’t see you like this _ , he doesn’t say.

It feels like an ending. Like this is the proof Isak has been waiting for that it really happened, and wasn’t just a product of his sleep-starved brain. Maybe that’s why, the next morning, Isak finally picks up his phone and calls Even.

“I’m coming over,” he says, not wanting Even to be surprised. He deserves the heads up, at least, in case--

In case that girl went home with him. To Isak’s home.

Realistically, Isak isn’t telling Even for Even’s sake. He’s telling him for his own.

“Okay, Isak,” Even says quietly, and then he says a bunch of other stuff too, but Isak is only half listening: it hurts too much to hear it.

Isak doesn’t give more than single word answers before he hangs up, fingers aching from his tight grip on his own phone.

 

\--

  
It doesn’t take long for Isak to throw his clothes into plastic bags, or stuff his textbooks into old backpacks. He figures none of the stuff in the apartment can be that important anyway, since he’s now gone a whole damn month without it. Four weeks. Fuck. Four long weeks of being back on the kollektiv sofa, of sleepovers at Jonas’s, and one not-at-all memorable (try as he might) night of blackout drinking, after which Isak woke up on Eva’s floor with a blanket tossed over him.

It’s hard to be in their studio now--or not ‘theirs’, he thinks, as the case may be. There’s the same bed where they whispered to each other in the darkness, where Isak was in Even and Even was in Isak and all of the variations in between. This place has so much of their history, and Isak feels sick to his stomach just looking at it. The pictures on the wall that Even drew for him. The photos of the two of them from Stavanger, in the fancy photo frames Sana helped him pick out.

He picks one up, tracing the outline of their smiling faces, and resists the urge to smash it on the thin carpet as it rises up within him: anger and the persistent sharpness of his grief.

He’s missed Even like an open wound, but that’s not new. It feels like he’s been missing him forever. Longer than the month they’ve been apart.

He can’t stay here a minute longer.

“Jonas will come tomorrow for the rest of my things.”

Isak enters the kitchen to find Even still leaning against the counter. He hasn’t moved since Isak came in, his phone loose in his hands as he idly plays Candy Crush. He looks fine, which isn’t fair, because--

Isak’s heart is breaking and he can feel it in his chest. It’s a stone sinking through his body. That’s the thing nobody mentions, the black hole dread of it. The way it doesn’t shatter so much as solidify, turn to heavy lead within him.

“You don’t have to go,” Even says, drawing his eyebrows together. 

He looks like he means it, and Isak thinks about what Even said on the phone, just that morning.  _ I don’t want to lose you, Isak. I don’t want us to hate each other, Isak _ . Like his heart wasn’t breaking the way Isak’s was. Like he just got to decide that it was over and have it all be okay. 

Like Isak could really come back and they could just hang out like nothing had changed. 

He tries to keep his voice steady as he answers.

“Really, Even?”

“You could come back.” Even says. He looks to the floor, then back again. Isak can’t even read his face anymore, and he hates it. “This is your place, too.”

They only have a month left on the lease, thank fuck. But Isak can’t come back here. Not to this place where they were so happy, and together, to the kitchen where Even danced around to the radio, brighter than the sun. 

Isak scoffs, forcing out a laugh that rings false in the quiet of the kitchen.

“Do you  _ want _ me to come back?” He tries to sound casual about it, but he knows he fails. 

It’s a dumb question, though. He can’t move back in and be Even’s friend. Sleep in the same bed as Even and not touch him. They don’t even have a sofa, for fuck’s sake. What kind of masochist does Even think he is?

Even shrugs, not quite meeting his eyes.

“I mean...” he says. “It was a mutual decision, wasn’t it? And we’ve had some time and space, now, so...”

And that’s the thing. 

Of course it wasn’t fucking mutual, Isak thinks. Not at all. Maybe Even thinks of it that way, but that’s only another example of them being on completely different pages in this--as in everything else. It wasn’t mutual, it was Isak seeing the train coming and climbing aboard to avert a collision. It was Isak, not a shred of self respect left, insomnia-drunk and terrified of everything he was losing his grip on, going along with everything Even said in the hopes of keeping him in his life, just a little bit, however he could.

Isak hated losing Even. Hated that he had let everything pile on top of him and ruin the best thing in his life. He hadn’t even blamed Even, then, just himself. He was hurt, but it was his own fault. Wasn’t it?

It was only once he’d gotten some sleep that he’d become angry. Only once he’d spoken to Jonas and Eskild that the words had come tumbling out: how dare Even just decide this because of a few hard months? How dare he be so okay, now it was done? And after everything they’d been through together, everything they’d felt, how dare he end their relationship with so little ceremony? Isak couldn’t imagine how Even had felt. It was like he just woke up one morning tired of fighting, and assumed that because his feelings had changed, Isak’s must have too.

Isak was still in love, but apparently Even wasn’t. Now, four weeks later, Even is fine. 

But Isak is still hurting.

“I’m sorry, Even. I can’t--do this,” Isak says, and it’s the first real face to face conversation they’ve had since the breakup--that’s the only explanation Isak has for how he can’t hide the cracks in his voice.

He fumbles for the key in his pocket, tossing it to Even. 

The keys clatter onto the kitchen floor as Even makes no attempt to catch them. He stares at Isak instead, and Isak rubs at his face, unwilling to let Even see him any more upset. There’s real concern on his ex-boyfriend’s face, and Isak can’t help but think it’s come months way too fucking late.

“Goodbye, Even,” he says, turning away.

There are only seven steps to the apartment door.

Isak counts them.

_ In for seven, out for eleven. _

 


	2. you are the story i should write

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even - July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look up 'The Last Five Years' if you're confused about the chronological jump/ POV switch. I won't be sticking to the show very closely, so it won't spoil you.
> 
> This one's for my girl Sunshine <3

**Scene II**

**July - Even**

 

In this moment, Even is obsessed with Isak’s eyelashes.

The July sunlight pours into their little apartment, making Isak wrinkle his nose and scrunch his eyes against the light. The curtains aren’t thick enough to stop the bright morning from spilling in, and so Even props himself up on one arm, puts himself between Isak and the sun as he smoothes out the frown lines on Isak’s forehead.

Isak huffs a little, as Even’s fingers trace over his face, but Even doesn’t care. He’s transfixed. The way Isak’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, lined as they are with pillow creases…

He’s so real. Beautiful, too, obviously, but so damn vital that looking at him sometimes feels like enough to ground Even back into the moment, even when it’s hard, even those days when he looks at his life and wonders  _ how the fuck did I make it here? _

Today is one of those days, but in a good way. Even can’t believe he’s allowed to have this.

“Stop staring at me,” Isak murmurs, stirring at last, and Even doesn’t hide how fond his smile gets.

“It’s a sign of my love,” he says, and Isak’s eyes flicker open as he meets Even’s gaze. 

Even’s never met another person who looks this good grumpy.

“It’s fucking creepy,” Isak argues back, but his lips are twitching into a smile.

Even can’t help leaning in to kiss him. Isak sinks right back into it, only pushing Even back when his morning breath becomes too much.

It’s like a dream Even had once. This fantasy of a perfect life with a perfect person, one where it didn’t all end in tragedy but was epic in its own quiet way.

“Can you believe we’re really here?” He asks. 

“Hmm?”

“You and me. Here in our own place,” Even replies, and Isak rolls his eyes, just a little bit.

“You say that literally every time we smoke, Even.”

True. But: “We don’t do that very often anymore," Even pouts. "Sadly.” 

Isak shrugs, and Even watches his mouth stretching into a lazy grin.

“No, but think about it,” Even says. “All this space and time to ourselves.”

“What about it?” Isak asks him--and that there is one of the things about him Even loves best. How he’s willing to take Even seriously, and follow the meandering paths of conversation wherever they lead. 

Isak listens.

“I mean, now school’s over it’s different,” Even says. “We have the whole summer to do whatever we want.”

“Okay,” Isak says, slowly. He’s still smiling. “And what do you want to do that we don’t already do?”

Even shakes his head.

“That’s not the point. We have the time to do anything. We don’t have to know in advance!” Even says. “It’s not about making plans.” It’s about living in the moment--and Isak has always been good at that. “We can be spontaneous.”

“You’re already too spontaneous,” Isak says, dryly.

Even grins.

“Yeah, I am. You like it.”

“Sometimes,” Isak admits, and Even has to kiss him. 

“Anyway, it’s the first summer of the rest of our lives,” Even says, when he pulls back. “We have to make it special.”

“Hmm.”

“No, really.” 

“Why do I feel like this is all a play to make me reenact some shitty movies?” Isak says, narrowing his eyes in mock suspicion.

Even throws back his head and laughs. 

“I really love you,” he says. 

“That wasn’t a denial,” Isak says, and Even returns his hand to Isak’s face, tracing the fading pillow line. Grumpy though he is, Even loves him. 

“Rest of our lives,” Isak repeats, quietly, and his face does something complicated. “Sounds chill.” 

Even tries not to laugh, but he doesn’t succeed. 

“Very _chill_ ,” he mimics, and Isak pokes him in the side. 

The thing is, Even wants to tell the world about this boy. Which is how he gets the idea.

 

-

 

He doesn’t tell Isak when he books their tickets to Stavanger on his father’s card. His dad doesn’t mind paying--he’s eager to finally meet Isak. 

He apologizes to Even over and over on the phone for not coming back to Oslo, but Even gets it. He’s always understood the painful chemistry between his parents: still in love but unable to make it work with each other. And now Even’s father has the newborn baby to deal with--it makes sense, Even thinks. His dad can’t leave his new family, but Even can go to Stavanger easily enough.

He springs it all on Isak at the breakfast table, two days before their flight is due to leave. 

“Two weeks?” Isak says. “Fucking hell, Even. What if I had plans already?” 

“You don’t,” Even says. “You were literally complaining ten minutes ago that your friends are all busy.”

It’s true enough that Isak just sighs, getting up with a long-suffering look to search for his suitcase in the hallway closet. 

He’ll be excited soon enough, Even knows--once he gets past his nerves over meeting Even’s dad. His mother probably hasn’t painted the easiest picture of her ex-husband: boisterous and impulsive and passionately opinionated. It’s an intimidating image. But Even has always loved his dad fiercely--looked up to him. Growing up, Even had been told again and again during his highest moments that he was just like his father… until they realised that Even’s highs were something else entirely. 

His father had never been the biggest fan of Sonja, but Even can tell immediately that he approves of Isak. Not that Even needs his father’s approval--but the way his dad draws Isak into a hug warms his heart, nonetheless.

He couldn't imagine the trip going more perfectly.

The days pass in a blur, the first week; Even shows Isak all of his favourite parts of Stavanger in the daytime, and each night they eat with Even’s dad and his stepmother and play with baby Ida, the tiny beautiful bundle of blondeness that she is. She screams a lot, but Even loves her already, and on Saturday night he manages to convince his father to take his wife out to eat, leaving him and Isak on baby duty.

Isak doesn’t look like he wants to hold her, but Even is content to, cupping her little head in his palm as Isak looks dubiously at him from the other side of the sofa.

“Isn’t it weird for you?” Isak asks. “That you’re the same age now that your dad was when he has you?”

Even is kind of surprised by the question, but Ida gurgles, drawing his attention back to her chubby face.

“Not really,” he says distractedly. “He and mamma were pretty young.”

Isak hmms. Noncommittally. “Why did they break up?” He asks. “They seem like they don’t like… talk. I mean, your mamma has kind of... said stuff.”

“They were just pretty bad for each other,” Even says. He looks up to find Isak watching him intently. "What?" 

“It just seemed weird to me,” Isak says. “Like, your dad asking about the guy she’s seeing.”

Even can’t help but feel a bit defensive of his father at that.

“Why? They still care about each other,” he says. “It’s not like they broke up and just stopped wanting each other. It's hard for them to see each other with other people, still.”

“What do you mean?” Isak asks. 

He looks genuinely curious, now.

“Well, they didn’t break up because they hated each other,” Even says, rocking Ida a little as her face starts to screw up. The frown disappears from her face for just a second before she’s pouting again. “They just couldn’t make it work.” 

“Oh,” Isak says. He looks down at the ground, then, seemingly perplexed. “So they were still in love?”

He seems confused by the very concept--which Even guesses he understands, a little, considering what he knows of Isak’s own parents. The love there doesn’t compare to the way his parents felt about each other, in his opinion. Not even close. No matter how bad for each other they ended up being. They were just a poor match. They wanted different things--things love couldn't overcome. 

“Not all love stories have happy endings,” Even says loftily, as Ida starts to cry in his arms. “Doesn’t mean it isn’t love.” 

Ida's screams break his heart a bit, and he stands, shushing her with a gentle finger on her lips.

He takes his baby sister into the kitchen, looking for a bottle to feed her with, and Isak follows. They fill the bottle together, warming it gently, working as seamlessly in the big kitchen as they do in their own tiny one.

He thinks the conversation is done with, but Isak's face remains pensive. Even knows how he gets--turning things over in his head like this.

“What about our love story?” Isak asks, once they’ve put Ida down to bed.

It’s an hour later, and they’re lying in the spare room, legs tangled together. Even has spit on his shirt, he’s pretty sure, and Isak’s hair is lying every which way where Ida kept grabbing it.

He’s still the most beautiful thing Even could imagine.

“Wait and see,” Even says. He drops a kiss to his mouth as he sits up to straddle Isak’s lap. “Why? Do you want a happy ending?” 

Isak scoffs at that, like it's not a real answer.

He knows what Isak means, though. Their love story--it feels like the kind that you could make movies about. But they’re already at the part after the heroes ride off into the sunset. They’re at the part where the story ends and life begins, in the movies. it's the scary part, really, because they've hit so many milestones and Even has no script for what happens next. He just has to trust where the new story takes him.

Even could say all of that, maybe, but he’d rather kiss Isak silly.

Isak acquiesces and kisses him back, bucking his hips up until Even can feel him pressing into his ass. Even meets his eyes, feeling his throat go dry at the way Isak looks at him.

The air between them is quiet and still. 

“I never want this to end,” Isak says, making Even's heart swell in his chest.

“Then it won’t,” Even replies.

 


	3. see i'm smiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak - October

**Scene III**

**October -  Isak**

 

Isak doesn’t know what this fight is about, but he’s too tired to care.

It feels like it’s been like this nonstop--when he and Even are even home at the same time, at least, which feels less and less common as time goes on. At first, it made sense, with Isak’s final year piling on the future-and-life-plans stress and Even’s first semester at university to contend with. They’d talked about that a lot, of course, and had been sure they could navigate it together, Isak and Even against the world. But now?

Isak stands in his own kitchen, listing against the counter, and watches this practical stranger in Even’s body run a hand through his hair in frustration. Ungelled, and greasy, it hangs limply on Even’s forehead, and Isak wonders when the last time Even showered was. When the last time was he was in before midnight or out before 10:00.

Even hasn’t been being careful enough.

That’s definitely an argument they’re still having, even when they’re not having it with words. It’s like they’re stuck in this stubborn stalemate: Even pushing the limits of what his body can accept, and Isak fearful for his health but holding his tongue, not wanting to turn into Sonja.  _ Just say it _ , Even says, every time he reads it on Isak’s face.  _ I don’t need to, _ Isak says back.

Now, though, the fight is about something else. Something specific, because Isak has been dragged out of bed at 16:00 during premium Even-free time, when he’s supposed to be at a lecture, and Isak had been trying to squeeze his eyes shut as he prayed for some much needed sleep.

(Not literal prayer, of course. Even if he and mamma have become closer again.]

Anyway, Even is home unexpectedly, clattering in and shaking Isak awake with a completely foreign expression on his face. He draws the curtains, letting the bright winter sun into the little studio.

“What are these?” He demands, and Isak makes his eyes focus on the box of medication in Even’s hand.

Huh. So that’s where that had gone.

“Medication,” Isak says dully, reaching his hand out for it. Even snatches it back, and Isak can’t help the sarcastic response from tripping off his tongue. “What does it look like?”

“Where did you get this?” Even asks. “One of Jonas’s guys?”

There’s a stabbing pain behind Isak’s eyes. He supposes he can’t really blame the conversation, since the headaches have become pretty commonplace nowadays, but he does wish Even would lower his voice.

“Stop freaking out,” he says, rubbing his face. “The doctor gave me them. It’s fine.”

“When did you see a doctor?” Even asks. He shakes the box as if to emphasize his disapproval. “This is serious shit, Isak, I know what is is.”

“Last week--” Isak starts, but Even cuts him off.

“You have to be careful with these, Isak. I used to take these--”

Isak cuts him off right back, not wanting to hear what Even’ll say next. 

“Right,” Isak says. “Sorry. You’re the resident mental health expert here, I remember.”

He regrets it the moment he says it, because Even takes a sudden breath, a flash of hurt crossing his face. He sags like a puppet with its strings cut, and the remorse wells up in Isak’s chest. 

“Baby,” Isak says right away, reaching out, but Even pulls away.  
  
He puts the pillbox down on the counter, and Isak tentatively takes it into his own hands. He missed his dose yesterday, and the day before. Was starting to worry he’d left the box at KB during one of his desperate attempts to stay awake in the daytime.

He’d been more surprised than anything, when the doctor prescribed him a sedative.  _ To bring your anxiety levels down _ , she’d said. All he could think about was how the last thing he needed was to be  _ more _ tired. That and  _ what the hell do I have to be anxious about? I have everything I’ve ever wanted. _

He hasn’t quite figured that part out--or told anyone, actually, except for Sana, who looked up the medication by name and cornered him in bio. Jonas just thinks he got hold of sleeping pills. And Even…? 

Well, until now Even had been in the dark. It wasn’t the sort of thing you discussed by text, or while crossing each other’s paths like ships in the night. Partly, Isak hadn’t said anything because he hadn’t had a chance to say anything. But also, he thinks, he’d been kind of afraid.

Not that Even would judge him for needing this. But that this would change the dynamic between them, in some way. Make things too hard for Even.

He also doesn’t know if the meds are really helping. Some days he feels like he’s running through fields of the thickest honey. Like there’s a monster behind him, and the honey is the only thing that can slow the monster down, but his legs are getting tired from the effort. Some days it feels like this is just another shade of grey, another face of zombification. 

But at least his heart isn’t racing. At least the feeling in his chest has loosened. It’s better, in that respect.

“Isak?” Even says, waving a hand in front of his face. “Isak, are you even listening to me?”

Isak pops open the pill bottle, and puts one on his tongue.

Even watches as Isak swallows the pill dry, and he grits his teeth.

“It’s fine, Even,” Isak says, head still pounding. “I’m good, we’re good, don’t worry.”

He tries a smile, and Even eventually returns it.

They're both wholly unconvincing.

 

-

 

Isak has to look twice at the red mark before it actually sinks in.  

A fucking 4-? In biology? He’d gotten a 4+ on the last assignment, sure, but he’d studied hard for this test, sitting for hours at this same damn table trying to force himself to memorize things as the words swam in front of his eyes.. He’d even borrowed Sana’s notes, and she’d helped him understand a lot, but… fuck. The day of the test hadn’t been a good one. He’d gone to bio straight from staying over with his mamma, where he’d barely been able to shut his eyes without stirring at her every little noise.  
  
He feels his eyes fill up, unbidden, and he scrubs at them angrily as he hears the telltale sound of the key in the lock. He shoves the paper into his backpack, too ashamed to show Even how badly he’s fucking up, just as his boyfriend wanders in and throws his own bag on the sofa.

“Halla,” Even says softly, and Isak feels himself relax a bit at Even’s sweet mood.

“Hi,” Isak says, awkwardly tilting his chin up for a kiss. Even’s lips glance against his for only a second before they’re gone again, and Even sits gingerly on the chair opposite Isak’s, a hesitant expression on his face.

“How was the bio test?” Even asks, and Isak pulls a face.

Of course, today would be the day Even remembered a detail like that.

“Fine,” Isak says. “Not the best, but… you know.”

Even bites his lip.

“Sana said it didn’t go so well,” he says. 

Isak feels his cheeks go hot. Sana can’t have meant herself--she was pretty happy with her 5+, and obviously so. 

“Things haven’t been good lately.” Even says, when Isak doesn’t respond.

It’s a little out of the blue. At first, Isak has no idea what he means.

“With your bipolar?”

“No, Isak,” Even says slowly. “With us.”

Isak feels like somebody has taken his heart and squeezed: he’s suddenly so full of incomprehensible dread.

“Yeah,” he hesitates. “Um, it’s kind of a rough patch.”

Even says nothing, and Isak’s heart only beats faster.

Shit. Fucking hell, no.

“Even?” he prompts.

“I don’t think we can keep doing this,” Even says, looking down at the kitchen counter. He studies his own hands like they’re the most fascinating things in the world--and once upon a time Isak might have agreed that they were a masterpiece worth looking at, but right now he just wants Even to meet his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Even looks up, then looks away again.

“I just think… we’re both under a lot of pressure right now. And maybe being together isn’t helping.”

No. Isak wants to say  _ no _ , to shout it, to deny all of it--but the look on Even’s face is resolute. He isn’t suggesting right now. His mind is already made up.

Even doesn’t want to be with Isak anymore, he realizes suddenly. That’s what this is. This is Even letting him down gently.

“I mean, we both know it isn’t working,” Even continues. He meets Isak’s eyes now, like he’s seeking validation.

Isak wants to argue, but he can’t pretend it’s not true. Even is  _ right _ , in a way. It isn’t working. Even has changed and he’s grown and he’s moved forward, and they’re not in the same place anymore. Even wants to leave Isak behind, and he should be able to. Not have some fucked up kid still weighing him down.

“Yeah,” Isak sighs, and doesn’t say anymore. 

“I’m really tired of fighting,” Even offers, and Isak nods, because that, too, is something he can’t help agreeing with.

“Me too.”

“Is this--” Even inhales slowly, then blinks at Isak, like he’s trying to read him. “Is that okay? Can we take a break?”

Isak feels like the very ground beneath him is churning up. Like there’s a sea inside him and stormy weather is coming, and his heart is the albatross in a metaphor from a movie Even made him watch once, though he never quite understood it.

He nods, and Even frowns, reaching for his hand. Even stands, pulling Isak up from the table into a hug.

“This is for the best,” he says into Isak’s hair, and Isak can feel the tears welling up in his eyes, so he does the only thing he can think of: fists a hand in Even’s hair and licks into his mouth.

Without discussion, they come together for the last time--for the first time in weeks, but for the last time--and Even holds Isak more tenderly than he has in months, smiling easily, and Isak hates him for it. He can’t help but feel Even is saying goodbye with his whole body; Isak only hopes that his is being less honest. 

No  _ how could you do this to me  _ in each roll of his hips. No  _ why don’t you love me anymore _ in the clutch of his fingers.

He doesn’t want Even to know how much it hurts him.

“I don’t want to lose you in my life,” Even murmurs, once they’re done, sweat cooling on their bodies in the poorly-heated room. “I’m afraid I will, if we don’t stop now.”

“You’ll never lose me,” Isak promises, with his shattered heart in his throat. The promise has jagged edges, splintered glass that he can feel cutting into him even as he forces it free. 

_ I love you _ , he wants to say. But Even won’t want to hear that, anymore.

This is it. They’re done. Tomorrow it will all be over. 

He lies awake for four hours before slipping out of bed, gathering a backpack full of clothes, and making the slow walk to the tram stop.

Jonas takes one look at the tear tracks on Isak’s face, and lets him inside.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” he says.

 

 

 


	4. have i mentioned today how lucky i am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take a breath / Take a step / Take a chance / Take your time / Have I mentioned today / How lucky I am / To be in love with you?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, i was not doing well last week. Have this short little thing as an apology.
> 
> Warning: panic attack here.

**Scene IV**

**August - Even**

 

They only have four days left in Stavanger, and Even doesn’t want the trip to end.

He’s had some of the most magical days of his life, here. Sun-drenched days wandering with his hand in Isak’s, getting their picture taken by  _ Sverd i fjell _ and travelling out to Preikestolen to look out over the cliff onto the fjords, feel the wind in their hair.

Far from Oslo, it’s like he’s free of the baggage of his past, and can finally focus on what matters, look ahead. He’s got Isak, and his tiny baby sister, and his dad--who finally treats him like a man now, doesn’t look at him like he’s young and strange and fragile. They haven’t been this close in years, and Even feels like this is it, the puzzle pieces slotting into place. Maybe it’s because Isak’s here, or because he finally graduated, or because Even tells him about the apartment, about starting university… he doesn’t know what it is that’s changed, but his dad looks at him differently and it makes Even’s heart soar inside his chest.

His dad takes him fishing, one morning, and tells stories about when he first met Even’s mother, their great romance. How perfect it was, how all-consuming, while it lasted. Even talks about Isak, and doesn’t even try to hide the pride and joy in his voice, and at the end they don’t catch many fish but his dad pulls him into the fiercest hug and tells him he’s proud.

He wishes Isak had agreed to come with them, but it’s equally nice to get back to the house and crawl in under the covers to wake him with kisses. Isak stretches out under him, sleep-warm and pliant, and maybe he’s a little lazier here or something, but they don’t fuck--just rub off against each other slowly until they’re called down to breakfast and Even’s skin has been warmed by Isak’s.

Even is happy. It’s all going well, which is why it sucks so much, four days before they’re due to return to Oslo, when Even wakes in the night to the sound of Isak retching in their en suite bathroom.

It takes him a moment to even register that that’s what he’s hearing, but when he does, he’s throwing off the covers in an instant to be at Isak’s side.

“Baby,” he murmurs, as he enters the room. The sight that greets him is pathetic. Isak, his nightclothes in a pile beside him, is hunched over the porcelain bowl, sweating and shaking... but Even can’t see any vomit anywhere. “Baby,” he says again. “What’s the matter?”

“Hurts,” Isak says. He contorts his body strangely, curled in on himself as he rests his sweaty forehead against the edge of the toilet. His body convulses, and he presses a hand to his abdomen.

His breathing is oddly shallow.

“What’s happening?” Even asks, tentatively putting a hand on Isak’s shoulder. Isak shrugs it off, and Even tries not to be offended. “Is it food poisoning? Did you eat something?”

“Probably,” Isak grits out, but his breaths are getting faster. He looks freaked out, and Even can’t help the faint stirrings of panic in his own belly. 

“Just breathe,” he says. “Just concentrate on breathing. It helps with pain.”

Isak shoots him a dirty look, then groans, presumably as a wave of it hits. 

“Okay,” Even says quietly. “Breathe in for seven, out for eleven.”

He counts them out, but Isak only gets to five before he lets out a shaky, short exhale, and gasps for more air.

“Can’t,” he says. “Fuck you.” 

“Keep trying,” Even says, because that’s all he knows how to do. 

So Isak tries and tries, and Even counts quickly because it’s the only way Isak can make it to seven. His elevens are pretty damn swift, too, but Even encourages him nonetheless. And Isak trembles and Even refrains from touching him, until Isak’s arms give way and he slumps down, and Even catches him to stop him from knocking himself out on the toilet edge.

They spend the rest of the night on the bathroom floor, Isak pressing his face into the cool tiles and Even counting under his breath, until Isak stops shaking and they fall into a dreamless sleep.

At least, Even doesn’t dream of anything.

 

-

 

They don’t call it a panic attack. They don’t actually call it anything, out loud, because Isak brushes off all mention of it in the morning.

“I feel good,” he says, kissing Even with a smile on his mouth, even as Even packs up their bags to leave, three days early. 

Isak only puts up a token protest when he sees what Even is doing, taking over the folding of wrinkled t-shirts when Even’s father appears in the doorway, an inquisitive look in his eyes.

Even follows him out of the door, leading his dad into the kitchen. 

“What’s wrong?” his dad says, concern written all over his face. “You're leaving? Are you okay?” 

Even shakes his head straight away, because he can see what his dad’s thinking. 

“I’m really good,” he says. “This has been really good, dad. But Isak’s not feeling well.”

His dad furrows his brow at that, not noticeably appeased.

“Not well? And he wants to get on a plane?” 

Even… hadn’t really thought of that. But Isak’s relieved smile when he saw the suitcases made it clear that the decision was the right one.

"He just..." Even looks behind him, like Isak himself could appear in the kitchen at any moment. "I think he had a panic attack last night."

Now, his dad's whole demeanour changes. He runs a hand through his silvering hair, and sighs.

"Is he alright now?"

Even nods, but then shrugs. He thinks so? But last night had been sort of unexpected. It's certainly never happened before.

"Is that why he hasn't been talking much?" His father asks. "Or coming out with us?"

The questions make Even pause, because--what does his dad even mean? Isak has been perfectly friendly, hasn't he? Even's been having an amazing time with his family... surely he would have noticed if Isak was behaving strangely.

He says as much, and his father just shrugs, noncommittally enough that Even starts to feel defensive.

"Even," his father says, slowly. "If he's going through his own... mental health issues."

"I don't even know if that's what was wrong," Even interjects. "It might have even been food poisoning, or something."

His father forgoes looking offended on behalf of his wife's cooking. "What I mean," he continues, "is that you should think about whether you can be good for each other. If you both have these issues."

Even feels his face fall, the stab of hurt that his dad might not believe Isak is the best thing for him.

"Isak's the best thing in my life," he says, and his father's face softens.

"I said that about your mother once, too," he says. "But just because you love someone doesn't mean they're good for you."

 

-

 

The plane ride home is as quiet as it is brief. Even doesn't really know why--just that the air feels stilted, between him and Isak. Even's mother seems to pick up on it too, when she collects them up from the airport. She doesn't say much at all until Isak and Even are unloading their suitcase in front of their apartment. 

"How was your father?" she asks, and she could mean any number of things by it, so Even just shrugs, and promises to call her later.

And she drives away, and then they're back to reality.

He follows Isak up to their tiny studio, and watches as Isak faceplants on the bed, burying his face in Even's pillow. He can't be bothered to unpack again, now, so he throws open the curtains instead, to let some air in, and takes off his t-shirt, which smells far too much like stale sweat and aeroplane. The one he finds to put on is almost definitely Isak's, but Even doesn't care.

He curls in next to Isak on the bed, weirdly hesitant, but is gratified when Isak reaches for him, burying his head in the crook of Even's neck.

"Sorry I ruined the trip," he says, and Even pulls back for a second to look him in the eye.

"You didn't  _ruin_ anything," he says, injecting his voice with all of his disbelief. "Are you serious?"

Isak shrugs, and Even winds an arm around Isak's back, pulling him in for an embrace. For a long moment, they just breathe there, and then Even has to break the silence, and ask the question that's been playing on his mind all day.

"Did you like my dad's family?" He asks, and Isak looks up at him.

"Yeah, of course," he says in surprise, then sighs, like he's embarrassed. "I fucked up with them, didn't I?"

"What?" Even asks, then runs his hand through Isak's hair to get him to make eye contact again. "Of course not."

Isak waits him out, and Even shakes his head.

"I love you. So they love you. It was good."

"Yeah, but," Isak rolls his eyes a little, like Even's logic is too simple for him. "I don't think your dad, like, approves of me."

Even hopes to God that Isak didn't hear their last conversation--because his father had gone on to elaborate kind of a lot about Even being sure he was making the 'right choice'. Even hadn't quite convinced him that Isak was the only choice he wanted to make.

"It's just hard," Isak continues, unaware of Even's line of thought. "Like, playing happy families and that shit. It's been a while."

Which makes sense, Even realises. 

From what Isak's said, he hasn't been part of a stable, happy family unit since he was about eleven, when Marianne first started showing symptoms. Maybe even before that--Terje and Marianne weren't, by all accounts, the happiest couple. Their family hadn't been particularly close.

Maybe four weeks with Even's dad's was a lot to expect him to jump into, Even thinks.

"Do you want a family, though?" Even asks, because he can't help but wonder about it. "Like, not now, but some day?"

Isak tilts his head and thinks about it.

Even can tell he's thinking it through seriously--maybe even for the first time--because he takes a while, just turning it over in his mind. Even can practically see Isak writing the list of pros and cons in his head, maybe because he just knows him that damn well. 

When Isak turns back to Even, the look on his face is hard to read. Apologetic, maybe. Unsure.

"I don't know," he says. "But, um..."

He looks down, like it's too embarrassing to say. 

Even leans in to kiss him, because if he's learned anything it's that kisses make Isak feel brave enough to say the things he's embarrassed to admit.

"Yes," he says, and Isak follows his lips as he leans back from the kiss, before whispering into his mouth.

"I already think of you as my family," Isak murmurs, and Even can't help the grin from taking over his face.

He kisses Isak again--and again, until he's peppering his face with kisses and Isak is squirming underneath him, pink and pleased.

"You're my family too," Even says, when he finally lets him free. "Me and you, together."

Isak presses against him from head to toe, as if to illustrate it: together. Even and Isak are pressed together.

And Even kisses him once more, before he pulls Isak back in to cuddle.

He has plenty of questions he still wants to ask, but Isak smiles up at him now, and Even doesn't want that smile to go away.

Even fucking loves him.

Fuck anyone who says that's not enough.


End file.
